


Life, Death, and Folklore

by Teradoration (Dragonsploosh)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Folklore, Friendship, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 12:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsploosh/pseuds/Teradoration
Summary: Death walks among us and when it comes, all anyone can do is run. Except for you. You try a different approach, with unexpected consequences.





	Life, Death, and Folklore

Imagine a monster that brings death wherever it goes.

It walks slowly, sometimes remaining eerily still for weeks on end before resuming its dragging pace. Its grey face is expressionless, eyes black and wide and empty. Flowers die beneath its feet, and even the ground itself becomes withered and rotten where it has trodden.

It is a walking plague, and for centuries people have held fast to the rituals that keep them safe; to salt and bless the earth, to keep their talismans close, and above all, stay as far from the monster as they can.

You are the first person to try and talk to it.

Villagers normally evacuate when the monster is seen approaching, but you stubbornly remain. You go unnoticed in the panic as people take whatever possessions they can carry, and flee. Soon the streets are eerily quiet, and you walk past the deserted houses, bemused.

The first thing you hear are the rustling, slow footsteps. The monster is approaching the town through a nearby field. You find yourself edging closer, watching the grass beneath it turn grey.

When you get near enough, you can hear it whispering. Its dead lips only move slightly, making a thin, papery sound as it continues. It doesn’t seem to notice you’re there, so you follow it, trying to keep at a safe distance.

The thing seems sad. On your journey through town you find yourself speaking to it, trying to keep it company. You don’t talk about anything in particular - you just fill the air with mindless chatter, telling it about the town and the shops that you pass.

By the time you reach the square, you’ve gained the confidence to cover the monster’s bare shoulders with a blanket. It just looks so skeletal and frail, you can’t help but duck into your own house and return with something to keep it warm.

By the time you get back, the monster has stopped. It stands there, swaying only slightly, staring blankly ahead. Stepping onto the dead grass that surrounds it makes your heart pound with fear for a moment, but all you feel as you wrap the blanket around it is a deep, penetrating sadness.

*

The monster is still there the next day. Almost as if it’s waited for you, it sets off as soon as you rejoin it, whispering incomprehensibly.

You note that it still has the blanket draped around it. One of its spidery hands has even fisted into the material, holding it tightly against its chest.

It’s only after a few hours of moving at a snails pace that you realise that something has changed - where before the town was unnaturally silent, now there is the faint sound of bird song.

You comment to the monster, spotting a bird fly overhead as you walk. There are daisies on the hillside, so you run and pick one, showing it to the monster.

The monster stops again, and its head turns towards you. Gingerly, you approach and pop the daisy stem through one of the holes in the blanket.

It withers immediately, and the monster seems sad.

“It’s okay, we’ll try again.”

It becomes a sort of game, picking the daisies and encouraging the monster to try and keep them alive. The creature isn’t even whispering any more, just staring down at its own chest as daisy after daisy is put through the blanket loops.

You let out a cheer when the first daisy stays green.

*

The next day, you bring along a backpack and a watering-can as you both reach the edge of town, where the wood-side begins. Granite turns into a small, dirt track that winds through the trees, and you gently water any of the flowers that happen to droop as the monster walks by.

In the middle of telling the monster about the wildflowers that grow here, you hear a shout. A sentry, sent to watch for the monster, has spotted it. You hear their footsteps as they run back towards their own village, and you know it will be empty by the time you arrive.

*

You rest that night, huddled up in the monster’s blanket, and by the morning, a fairy ring of toadstools has grown all around you.

The monster is still there too, staring off to the side, where two squirrels chase eachother around a tree.

*

It doesn’t take long before the flowers begin to spring up behind you. The watering can is forgotten, empty and tied to your backpack, as bluebells and crocuses start to litter your path, like footprints.

The forest smells of rain and moss, and you look behind to see buttercups emerging from the dirt.

The monster is still whispering, but it isn’t the melancholy muttering it was before. Though you can’t understand the words, it’s now full of excitement. Like something new is about to happen, but neither of you know what.

*

When you reach the next town, it is predictably empty. The people are gone, but the wildlife remains. A cat trots up to greet you and rubs itself against the monster’s legs. The grass is green and vibrant beneath your feet, and a daisy lazily worms its way up from the soil.

*

Deep down, you know that change won’t happen overnight. A lifetime of fear of the monster can’t be erased by words alone, even after what you’ve seen. When the townsfolk return, first will come disbelief. Then will come suspicion, anger, fear. You can tell them the monster was never evil, never malevolent, but they won’t listen. Not at first, anyway.

Then it might begin to make sense. The way the animals are behaving; the disappearance of that tell-tale trail of death.

You’ll tell everyone that the monster only ever emanated what was directed at it, and the result was the scarring of the land. Life has a way of shielding itself from such cold hatred, just as it welcomes the warmth.

You smile to yourself as you walk beside the monster, as you have done ever since that day. In the end, all it took was for you to try and understand, to reach out and walk beside the monster instead of cursing it and running. Eventually, the rest of the world would catch up - how could they not, when the flowers that line your path bloom so beautifully.


End file.
